


and perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone

by completist



Series: when half of your heart will never come home (BF Angst Week 2019) [1]
Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, BF Angst Week 2019, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-GOL, subtle Sing/Eiji, written in Alex's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 02:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17336882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completist/pseuds/completist
Summary: Alex doesn't know why Sing asked him to drive them to Cape Cod, yet he accepted the invitation. How could he not, when the person who made sure Ash's memory lives on will be there, when the person who made the memory of his boss so clear in his mind will be there.Alex doesn't know why Sing asked this of him, yet he accepted. After all, it feels like the least he could do.





	and perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Here's a little fic I wrote for day 1 of BFAngstWeek, the theme is death || forget (i like to think i sort of combined the two but idk)!! Set post-GoL, and in Alex's pov, who I think, is one of the best boys in the gang :)) this fic rlly let me explore and have a glimpse of what happened to the gang after Ash's death, and how the gang sees Eiji.

Alex couldn't keep his gaze from straying to Eiji’s reflection on the rearview mirror, and to Sing on the right side mirror. The car feels too cramped even with just the three of them, the air suffocating despite the fact that the windows are rolled all the way down.

Eiji hasn't changed much, he thinks, he still elicits the same feeling of calmed fierceness to those around him. Alex would know, he saw it in his boss’ eyes, in his boss’ determination that seemed tougher than any other times Alex have seen it. Eiji hasn't changed much, his hair might be longer, sure, but he still looks like the same boy who wakes Ash up with no fuss, the same boy who drags Ash to the bathroom like a sleepy child on the morning before school. Eiji hasn't changed much, Alex thinks, he's still the same boy whose touch can either make the devil crumble down or build him back up.

Alex would know, he saw it in Ash's smile, even in death.

“How come we're going back to Cape Cod?” Eiji asks, meeting Alex's gaze on the rearview mirror before his gaze falls to Sing, “Didn't the police found out?”

“They did.” Sing answers, staring straight ahead the path they are taking. Alex forces himself not to look at the way Sing's hands are clenched into fists in his lap, focuses instead on the calmness of his voice. He admires how Sing has grown up to be, despite everything that happened. Alex can't help but recall the times when he's still taller than him, yet Sing’s leadership and loyalty already rivals those Alex used to admire—and one he still admires. Even now, Sing still has the heart that can take on the world, and yet

And yet this seems too much for him.

Ash's memory is too much for all of them, and he wouldn't even dare presume how it really is for Eiji. He recalls the days spent with Ash among them, guiding them along the dark, violent streets of New York. Days when Ash would teach Skipper how to shoot, or how to throw a knife this way and that and how everyone would gather to watch and  _ learn _ because this is how Ash Lynx do it. He recalls the days spent with the gang complete, not to wreak havoc in the streets or for a macho showdown, but for a night of simple camaraderie among boys who are so different from each other yet not so much. He recalls the day—that one day he could never forget, no matter how hard he tries, no matter how painful the memory now is—when Ash taught him, when Ash asked for his gun and aimed it with such precision Alex wasn't able to do with it before, when he returned it in Alex’s hand and tells him  _ this is how you do it _ .

He remembers when he first saw Ash with Eiji and he just  _ knew.  _ Remembers when, just like Ash, the gang quickly became familiar with Eiji, like Eiji has always been there, have always been a part of them even if he sticks out like a sore thumb sometimes. He thought he might forget, yet being in the presence of Eiji alone makes the memory surface at the forefront of his mind—vivid, like it happened yesterday and not nine years ago.

Alex forces his hands to loosen its tight hold on the steering wheel, takes a deep breath, and casually leans his arm on the open window beside him.

“I was able to pull some strings to get him and his brother back to Cape Cod. It took a while, but Max was a big help. Now they're all together—him, his big bro, and his dad.”

“That's wonderful, Sing.” Eiji says, and Alex can hear the smile in his voice. “I know it really shouldn't come from me, but thank you.”

Sing just nods, but Alex can see how Eiji's words made him visibly relax.

Why Sing asked him to drive them here is a wonder. Not that Alex doubts Sing's decision, nor his self-control but he really can't see why, doesn’t see the need to it, really.

He doesn't need the urge to remember. To remember the guilt, the pain, the silence among the gang upon hearing the news. He doesn't need to be reminded that he's not strong enough, not smart enough to figure out what was wrong, doesn’t need to be reminded that he’s a coward for leaving after that, for barely making sure the gang remains intact even upon Ash's death. He couldn't even let his feet step on the streets he once trudged upon with Ash in front of him.

He doesn't need the urge to remember, and yet he accepted the invitation. How could he not, when the person who made sure Ash's memory lives on will be there, when the person who made the memory of his boss so clear in his mind will be there.

He doesn't need the urge to remember, yet the echoes of the bullets Ash fired when he couldn't get to Eiji still rings in his ears, the memory of Ash's angry voice loud despite the wind whipping past them, despite the sound of wheels on gravel that tells them they are  _ this  _ close to where they needed to be.

Sing asks him to stop the car.

Then a beat, or two. Or maybe it was a lifetime, except Alex is sure he wouldn't endure; Sing has his hands clenched into fists again, and Eiji has this look of quiet reminiscing painting his features—like he can see more than the tree, more than the disturbed ground near it that, in this case, can only mean a recent burial, like he can see past all the grief that once again seized all of them.

Eiji is the first one to step out of the vehicle, he walks towards the tree without looking back and Alex finds that he's not even surprised. Eiji has always gravitated close to Ash more than he did to any of them, and Ash to him in turn. It was a beautiful dance, and Alex feels privileged to have seen it—in all its pain and glory.

When Eiji drops down to his knees, his head bowed down, Sing hastily jumps out of the car, closely followed by Alex. They both stop as they watch Eiji's shoulders shake, as they hear his sobs be carried by the wind. Defeated, Alex slumps back into the driver's seat, one foot settled firmly inside the car and the other hesitantly on the ground Ash once stepped upon. He sees Sing step take a step forward, then another, but they both get blurred as tears well up in his eyes, as he finally let the tears fall after all these years.

He lets the tears fall as his guilt rushes over him again, why he couldn't be there for Ash fast enough, for Ash, who was always with them, for Ash, who made sure their safety comes first, for Ash, who never asked more than what they could give and never inspired any of them to be lesser than what they could be. He lets the tears fall, for Ash, and Eiji, for the time they were together that wasn't enough, for the time they were together that seemed more than enough for Ash. For Skipper. For Shorter. For everyone who died. He lets the tears fall as he apologize to Ash, for not measuring up to what he could be, for being a coward and taking this long to be here, for not being with the gang long after his death, for letting go of everything, for trying to forget everything, for Eiji, for walking away.

For not making sure Eiji is happy. Like he knows Ash wants him to be.

Alex watches as Sing kneels beside Eiji, watches as another dance begins and prays,  _ hard,  _ prays to a god he doubted was ever there for all of them—prays that this time, death evades this dance for a little while, and for Eiji to smile wholly again, without pain or grief, or sorrow—so that Ash can gaze upon him from up above with a smile of his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a quote from The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller.
> 
> hmu on [twitter](https://twitter.com/completist_) and [tumblr](http://queen---queer.tumblr.com/)


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